253
by Vodid
Summary: The Decepticons have just begun to enslave the human population. A few unsaid rules were learned. Don't look them in the eye. Don't make a sound. Don't stumble. Keep moving. Follow every order with haste. That is, if you want what's best for yourself. And maybe, just maybe, you'll live. Now it is a game of catching the eye of one Decepticon. Megatron. Rating will go up
1. 36

It was a large metal room.

Six, maybe seven, times taller than the average human height. The walls were a dark gunmetal stainless steel, or at least a metal none knew of. Blue lights that lit the entire room, but looked dim to the eye, decorated the ridges in the walls. But it was far from fancy.

Three doors were in the room, white lights lining the arches. One door was on one side, the other two next to one another on the opposite wall.

It was quiet.

Dreadfully quiet.

Besides the low humming of the lights, it was almost a deafening silence. Except when the giant robot aliens in the room shifted, their gears clicking and whirring.

There was a group of humans, a total of a hundred. Feeding from the small gathering, was a line of them, slowing diminishing the number. All had shackles around their wrists, and a dead look in their eyes. Each human of different nationalities and races were stripped to nothing, leaving them bare in their skin. There was an equal amount of women and men.

But none cared.

They all huddled together, hoping to not be harmed by the metal beings more than three times their size. Each came from one part of the country; a place where not one would be missed. It wasn't a physical location. These robots hunted them down, knowing the humans had nothing left in their lives.

Five of these aliens were currently in the room, their scathing red optics burning holes into the little people. Two held weapons, two more looking intimidating enough to keep the humans put. One sat on a large throne, nothing special about the seat besides the enormous robot. It was the tallest, easily told by his body mass, despite sitting. No words came out of its mouth, only smiling every time a human looked up at it with fear in their eyes.

It took special interest in one human female as she walked past it in the slow moving line. She didn't look up at the robot.

Slamming a fist down on the arm, it leaned down to her level, catching each and every one of the humans' attention, besides her. It grinned when she glanced at it, "Hello."

So it was male, judging by his voice.

The people lined up shuffled away as he held out a hand, his finger crooking, "Come here, girl," she complied, taking a couple steps forward. He didn't seem like one to mess with, despite speaking with a light voice, "What is your name?"

"Rosangela," she replied without hesitance, eyes cast downwards respectfully.

He leaned back, "Rosangela," the robot tested, her name flowing off his tongue easily. After a minute's ponder, he glared down at the frozen humans, "Carry on."

She stepped back in line, her short shoulder length hair following along. The black tresses were captivating with the way they moved along, the mildly frizzy curls bouncing with each step. The robot's attention was drawn away from the small, slightly chubby human, and instead redirected to a shrill cry from the crowd of humans. A woman was curled around a screaming child, no more than a little past his toddler years.

The alien leader turned to his right, and barked, "Starscream!" the triangular one stood attention, "Why is there a _child_ here? Release it at once!"

"But, Lord Megatron," he began, "You had no specifications for age!"

He growled, piercing red eyes staring into Starscream until he shied away, complying with the order. The robot leaned back, "Any other child found will be returned exactly where it was found. I better not find any minors!"

"Yes, my Lord," he sneered down at the few children he found in the group of humans, then gathered them up and handed them to the drone beside him, "Return these little pests back where they came from."

The largest, Megatron, relaxed in his seat, "They're useless to me," he watched as the other Decepticon, plus another, had rounded up a total of seven children, all wailing in terror. He narrowed his red eyes, muttering to himself, "And a nuisance."

Megatron watched as the human girl from earlier approached the wall mounted tablet. It was a form to depict whether or not the human enters the left or right door. The right door sends them to their slavery, the left would be the end of their pitiful, lonely lives. Or put to another use. The Decepticon leader knew how emotional these creatures could be, why would they want to return to their old, bland lives?

He hacked into the device and watched as she filled out the form.


	2. 35

**Fill out the blank spaces in the form, then press "Done" when finished. Afterwards, enter the door assigned to you.**

* * *

 **Given/Surname:** Rosangela Topez

 **Sex:** Female

 **Age:** 25

 **Birthdate:** May 8, 1984

 **Height:** 5'2"

 **Weight:** 132.7 lb.

 **Native Language:** Spanish/English

 **Registration Date:** June 17, 2009

 **Group:** 4

 **Designated Number:** 253

* * *

 **| Done |  
**

* * *

 **Are you sure?**

 **| Yes | **| No |

* * *

 **Please enter the left door.**


	3. 34

She stepped back from the tablet on the wall, staring at the words. Left door. Turning, the girl walked accordingly to the designated door. What lied inside?

Rosangela slowed her pace, ignoring the warning gaze of the robot standing next to the left door. He wanted her to move faster, but she didn't. What awaited her inside? Death, or release? Slavery?

Her second warning was the thump of the robot's staff on the floor, resounding through the whole room. The human didn't shy away, instead, she stopped momentarily before finally walking up to the door, and it opened up for her.

Blood. There was blood _everywhere_ in the room. It looked like an antechamber, with dead humans in it, that is. Two more robots stood inside, their cold red gaze flicking over to her. Rosangela had watched how many entered each door, there was a significant amount of less humans in here than what originally entered. Had some lived?

Megatron watched from his throne, red eyes narrowed as the bare skinned woman approached the inside of the left door. He raised his voice, "Soundwave," he called out to the robot, he was standing just outside the right door. The shorter figure turned, "See to it that 253 goes into the right door. My orders."

The two metal beings inside the antechamber looked up to their leader and nodded at the stare given. The closest to Rosangela nudged her out with the butt of his staff, far enough for the door to close without squishing her.

253 was her number, she'd have to remember that.

To the right door. Since the left looked predominantly like utter _death_ , she assumed that this one would be different.

Megatron stared at her small, frail organic body as she looked up at Soundwave, he gestured her inside the room. Another antechamber... with blood. Not in pools, but in small drops dotted here and there around one little spot in the center of the room. No body parts or humans. Rosangela turned to see the door closing behind, her eyes spotted the leader's red eyes on her.

When the door shut, it became darker. It was dim in the room, with lights lining the walls like the previous room.

Again, two robots stood inside. They stared down at her with blank red gazes. One stepped forward, "To the wall," he pointed to the opposite side of the room. She obeyed, setting herself flat against the wall with her back facing them, "Do not move."

Warmth... no, heat crept up to her skin. As it got closer, it became hotter. Rosangela grit her teeth as it became even _higher_ in temperature.

Something burning pressed itself against her back. She could feel her skin being easily moved like slime as it pressed deeper. A tingling, soon stinging, sensation started up. It took everything the girl had not to scream in pain, but tears welled up in her eyes out of instinct.

A warm liquid trickled from her back and down her legs. Blood.

The heat finally began cooling down, and it was taken out - not off - _out_ of her back. It left a stinging pain beyond what Rosangela has ever felt, and she steadied herself on the wall.

Another object was pressed on her back, it felt like rings. Tiny little needles pricked her back.

"253, please go through the door," she turned to see one of the robots pointing with his staff to the entrance. The other was holding metal, it changed colors, from orange, red to gray. It read her number. She continued to stare at it until the first robot restated with a firmer tone, "253."

Snapping out of it, she stumbled to the next room, her back raw and bleeding still. What had they branded her with? Her number, right? It was on her lower back, just shy of her back dimples.

It pained her to walk.

A small gathering of her kind stood in the next room, they were slipping on clothes. Black undergarments. That was it. The women were given her own set of panties and bras. The men didn't need the top. Each one had numbers on them.

217, 198, 211, 247, 245, 239. The numbers went on. It was almost illegible through the blood.

There were about twenty-five humans in the room, they stood there and sat around for what seemed like hours until there were sixty-one, Rosangela counted. It would have been sixty if she weren't to go in the right door.

On one side of the wall, were showers of a sort. Guess to wash off the blood and clean the brand. It'll surely scar, what's the point in no scar? The girl turned as much as she could to see; an ink ring around the branding.

She turned on the water. It was cold.

Blood filled her senses as she watched it run down the small drain, mixed with the water. She was feeling a little lightheaded.

Three robots stood in the room this time, their faces mostly blank besides the occasional scowl at the humans below. One stepped forward and began directing the gathered humans into the _next_ room.

How many rooms were there?

Instead, it was a long, _long_ corridor they had to walk down. Many giant doors lined the walls. It didn't even look remotely like a corridor with how wide it was. The width might as well have been as large as an eight lane highway.

Rosangela kept her curious eyes to the ground as they walked. The large robots kept a steady pace with the humans below, maybe seeming a little impatient.

After countless minutes, they seemed to reach a corner... where there was another corridor. Shorter this time. At the very end was a door they were heading towards. They sped up their pace by a notch, and approached the door in no time. It opened and the two robots following them didn't come in with the humans.

Red eyes from a sentry shifted over to them, he crooked smirked at them, picking up his staff with his other hand and holding it horizontally, aligned with his chest.

"Welcome to the energon mines."


	4. 33

The energon mines were dark, besides the strong glow of the blue crystals the other small amount of humans were excavating. It smelt strongly of sweat and rocks. The sentry robot smirked down at the newcomers, and began directing them into a small room that branched off from the mine. Inside, were many varieties of tools; pickaxes, drills, jackhammers, and boots. The robot spoke down to them, "Here, is where you'll gear up. You'll start off farther in the mines, starting with smaller pieces of energon," he pointed to the wall with his metal staff where the pickaxes were, "You'll start with those today."

Each person filed themselves in lines to grab the necessary tool with a dead look in their eyes. Afterwards they put on boots and followed a robot out, a different one this time. He lead them down the dimly lit cave, ordering the other humans to keep working as they stopped to look empathetically at the new workers. They quickly averted their tired eyes, continuing to lift the worn pickaxes with their malnourished, yet muscled, arms, covered in dirt and grime. They were skinny, hair filthy and lips chapped. It didn't seem that bad compared to worse conditions. It looked like they had some level of maintaining their personal hygiene.

Rosangela kept her eyes down, lowering them immediately after stealing a quick glance at something. She tightly gripped the tool in her hands to her chest listening to the clinking of pickaxes on rocks.

They went deeper into the mines, not too far where they couldn't see the entrance, but far enough that it seemed like they were miles away. More humans lined the walls, some pushing carts full of the crystals which Rosangela could only assume were energon. The robot split the group, "You will work until I say you can stop," he stated gruffly, "If you are injured, report to one of us. If you get tired, only - and I mean _only_ \- five minutes are given once per shift. The max time you work down here is four hours, eight hours if you combine both shifts. Be glad we're this generous. We've witnessed how weak you humans are."

He sent a stern look before turning away.

"Start working," a hand was waved as he walked away, "And don't even think of purposely harming yourself. We will leave you to bleed out if you do."

Rosangela frowned at the little glowing crystals sprouting from the rocky wall before heavily lifting her pickaxe and quickly bringing it back down on the rocks, some of the blue crystals falling to her boot-clad feet. It didn't seem so bad, that is, until she began feeling tired, thirsty and hungry.

"There were fifty-six of us, y'know," one middle-aged man stated, pausing to grunt as he brought down his pickaxe, "There's more of ya this time."

A couple people, including Rosangela, glanced at him. Immediately getting back to work at the sound of the sentry's staff hitting the floor warningly. The man smiled as he hit a large chunk of energon off the wall, "Name's Monty, kids. These robot guys? They're called the Decepticons. Needs us to be their dirty workers."

"How long have you been here?" A younger man with the numbers '245' etched onto his back asked.

Monty smiled again, "I'm the third group, the one before you all," he jabbed his thumb to his back. '98.' "The first group is long gone and dead, all the seconds have been promoted."

"Promoted...?"

"Yeah, means they gotta new job. They're more or less better than mining. As more groups come along, the conditions improve."

A robot pointed to Monty, "You there! Get back to work, 98!"

Each human continued chopping down the wall, other workers picking up the loose crystals and loading them in to their carts. They did so in silence.

It remained quiet in the mines, void of any conversation as the humans worked.

Rosangela wiped the sweat from her forehead, the perspiration beginning to bead up and annoyingly run down her temples. She wasn't tired enough to waste her break. It's only been about an hour, if her internal chronometer served her right. Her arms brought up the pickaxe again and again. She was going to be sore for a long while, that she knew. _Maybe that's how everyone here is so muscled?_ Rosangela mused to herself, momentarily glancing around before getting back to picking out a stubborn crystal, _they've worked down here for a long while it seems._

Were the Decepticons fair in nourishment? Some humans around here didn't look like they received the right nutritions. But like Monty had said, the treatment is better with each passing group.

"Hey, Monty?" the 245 boy looked up from his mining, continuing to speak when he had the man's attention, "What are the other jobs?"

The sentry nearby watched them closely, but seemed to allow this one conversation. Monty looked up in thought for a moment, "Well, there's energon miner. Then there are these guys," he gestured to the cart-pushing people, "They're the energon transporters. The next job is like... uh, a caretaker of a sort. Depending on if they're practiced in medicine or not, they'll either tend to our wounds or feed us at our meals. Lastly, there's the testies. They're lab rats; tested on, with something. I dunno much in it, but... Oh! There's one more, I don't think anyone's made it there yet. I think most die at the last job," he muttered the last part.

Some people stopped to gape at him, Rosangela broke that one stubborn crystal from the wall and frowned. They're killed?

"Not many have become test subjects. But the last job is becoming a personal assistant of a sort to a Decepticon," he lowered his voice and leaned towards the others, "We've all tried our hardest impressing the Decepticons to reach a better level of respect. Some of us have. Like me, I've worked in these mines since day one. And look how strong I am!"

He gestured to his body, which was, in fact, highly muscled. He then began comically flexing.

"Alright, 98, they get it. Back to work," the sentry watching them stated, pointing his staff at the burly man.

Monty waved him off, turning back to the wall and laughed, "Yeah, yeah, Crossframe," he said nonchalantly as he brought his pickaxe down on the wall. He only stopped to see some staring at him in awe. He shrugged, "What? I told you, they respect me to some degree. That one over there's Cross. The one who brought you down here, was Dagger. They're both tough guys, but real softies on the inside."

At that, Crossframe glared at the man, but said nothing.

Rosangela stared at the robot. They most certainly had emotions. At first, it seemed like they had captured the humans for ransom, torture or something. But their first impressions here have been nothing but generosity in giving the low-life humans something to do with their lives. Rosangela frowned, she had been working at a library previously. No one knew her, no one liked her.

She was a nobody, had no one, and dearly wanted something interesting in her life.

Well, it came.

* * *

Rosangela picked up her head from its previous hanging, her pickaxe leaned up on the rock she was sitting on. She was taking her break before a Decepticon barged through, it was Dagger, "Alright, humans! Shift's over. Since most of you are _newbies_ here, I'll lead you down to the cafeteria. But only this once."

He turned and stood just outside the gear room, waiting as the humans put away their pickaxes. Monty smiled sympathetically at some of them, who had sat down to take off their boots, "There's no need to leave your boots here. They're yours to keep," the man put away his pickaxe, "And don't worry, you'll get your clothes after you wake up tomorrow."

The new ones followed the friendly man like lost puppies. He was the only one out of the thirty others who actually spoke to them. Maybe more of the third group will speak later on?

It was a long walk down the hall, the robot in front of them speaking, "This is the human corridor. If you are seen beyond this hall, you will be punished," he began pointing to all the rooms, starting with one on the left, "That is where the energon transporters go. Those crystals you've been mining are our fuel. We melt them down to a liquid we drink."

He continued on, pointing at two doors on the right, "Those are your living quarters. The first one is for males, the second, females. If any of you pitiful things are what you call... transgender? You will go into the gender you identify as, I suppose," he turned, "It doesn't seem like any of you are. But if I catch any of you attacking, or dominating, one another, there will be severe consequences."

After a warning gaze, he went on with the walk, "On your left here is where your wounds would be tended to. There are currently seventeen humans skilled in your medicine. If any of you are in the medical field, speak up now," he watched as only two raised their hands. He nodded and pointed to the room, "Tomorrow, you'll go into here.

"Ahead, is the cafeteria. That's where your meals will be. Breakfast, lunch, dinner," the door opened for them and he continued speaking as the humans walked in, "Only those three meals. And no complaining about the food! Be _glad_ with what you have. The first group made all the mistakes that we are now preventing so we still have an adequate amount of workers."

With that, Dagger retreated into the other corridor.

Rosangela looked around the mess hall, it was nicely lit and looked moderately clean. The caretakers must get bored throughout their shifts outside of meals.

Monty waved over the new group of sixty-one to a stack of metal trays, which they all picked up and joined the line to gather their food. He smiled down at the large line, "Don't worry, all you peanut-allergied peoples. There aren't any nuts here."

He spoke very oddly, Rosangela noted. Must have been picked up where he grew as a child.

Once everyone had food, they all filled in the tables. Some sat alone, and others sat in groups. Rosangela didn't know where to go. She sat at the table benches where there was one person, but said nothing.

There were more men than women, but seemed to keep their heads down. Guess Dagger was pretty serious about the "dominating" part.

Rosangela looked at the other person who sat at the table. They both sat far from one another, but she could see the number on his back. 254. One number higher than hers.

His eye also trailed to her back momentarily as well. Names didn't seem to be much use if numbers were all that they would identify each other as.

"What did you do before this?" he glanced to her, picking at his pasta.

The menu seemed to consist mostly of nonperishable food, save for some of the drinks given, like milk and a couple options of juice. She looked down at her own pasta, spinning it into her spoon. She spoke quietly with a light Spanish accent, "I was a librarian. You?"

"Homeless," he sighed, "Walked the streets, got free water from McDonald's and stuff. Lived off scraps. Basic living. This place seems much better than having to survive through winter."

She stared sympathetically at the boy, who looked to be around his legal drinking age; a little younger than her. Rosangela had a roof over her head, in a small apartment. She had nothing valuable besides the necklace she wore around her neck. It seemed that most were allowed to keep that kind of jewelry. That, she was grateful for. It was her grandmother's necklace, bought when she lived in Spain.

"Think we'll be here for the rest of our lives?"

"Yeah," she glanced at him before returning to her food, taking a bite of the pasta.

* * *

Dinner lasted for an hour, they were told. All three meals were that long.

That added up to eleven hours. Three hours spent on food, eight on working. The rest was for retiring to their beds.

The women's quarters were filled with bunks, twenty in all. There were about thirty-five women, so they were fine for now. All their necessities were in place, including any feminine products. Guess the Decepticons learned that one the hard way.

"So," one woman began, running a brush through her long hair before beginning to braid it, "Any of you see any eye candy yet?"

Another gaped at her, "But we aren't allowed-"

"I'm just teasing," she giggled, "I'm Laura, one of the doctors here. Or, as they call me, 64. Part of the second group to come."

"That's pretty funny," an older lady piped up, "My name's Lauren. My number is... let's see... Right! 199."

A girl, a little younger than Rosangela with the markings 221, looked up at the lights, "Don't they waste power keeping those on?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Laura smiled softly, "They have unlimited power. And we control whether or not we want the lights on or off here."

The first woman to speak to her crossed her arms, "Monty never said how long he's been here."

"Ah, right. Monty. He really likes getting himself injured. Usually scrapes his knees or splits his knuckles, that man is a wonder," she mused, "The Decepticons register a new group here every six months. He's in the third group, so he's been here for half a year. Me? A whole year. But it's really not that bad nowadays."

Rosangela lied down on the bottom bunk of a corner bed, curling up with her back facing the circle of women talking, some loitering around the room, others sitting and listening intently to each other.

With the voices becoming white noise, she closed her eyes and let sleep come to her.


	5. 32

Two fifty-three.

Two fifty-three.

Two fifty-three.

Her new "name" repeated itself in her head, it rolled off the tongue quite easily after a while. Or at least, in her mind it seemed. It was quiet, filled with a few whispers of the women who were already awake. It was early in the morning, that much Rosangela could tell. Her internal clock normally woke her around six, since her work hours at the library required her at eight in the morning.

Wonder when she was fired from her job? There weren't many librarians working at once, she was usually one among three or four others. Wonder how many missed calls she got from her work. No one seemed to care about her though. Her manager knew nothing of her, so what should it matter? He only cared for the library and maintaining a steady income.

The woman lived a lonely life so far. Yes, she was young, but that's not to say she'll find anyone. Even someone to at least be her friend.

"Wake up, girls!" One of the few women of the second group called out to the rest, "Breakfast starts in an hour!"

Rosangela rolled over on her stomach, her face momentarily planting itself in the pillow as she turned away from the wall. After spending a minute of tiredly blinking her eyes, still in a dreary state, she sat up and pushed the thin blanket off her body. Navy blue clothes were stacked in a neat pile beside the door, waiting to be worn by the women. Rosangela quickly did her business and proceeded to find a size that fit her. Every day, they'd wake up to new clothes.

Afterwards, they all relaxed and passed around light chatter.

It had been roughly a week since they arrived, it's been more or less rough. Not her best weeks, but it could have been worse when you've been kidnapped by giant alien robots who mercilessly killed almost half the number they gathered. Not to mention how others were treated, especially in higher jobs. Only the miners and medics seemed to be treated fairly, but it all depends on which Decepticons watch over them.

She's seen more people than she liked having red scars streaking across their backs. They used _whips?_

The clothes were interesting, to say the least. There were pants, that hugged the skin like leggings. Then the tops, only for women, were similar to tight-fitting crop tops, ending just before their ribcage did. Their numbers were bared for all to see.

The men wore pants, less tight than the women's, but were relatively the same. They wore no shirts, however.

Oddly enough, none had made a move to impress the ladies with their rippling muscles or lean bodies yet. Save for Monty, he was a jokester. The men didn't gape at the attractive women. Eyeing sure, but never hitting on. There were a lot of pretty ladies around, the Decepticons must have known this and strictly stated for the humans to not make any move.

"Or there will be severe consequences," Dagger had said.

Rosangela never had someone look at her with such reverence. She didn't find herself attractive, neither did men apparently. Today's criteria was built around looks, something she felt like she didn't have. The girl never wore makeup, never spent too much time on her hair, didn't wear perfume or skimpy clothes. She didn't feel like she had that body to show off like other women did.

They stepped out of the room and down the hall to the cafeteria for food. It was a giant room, the ceiling was at least thirty feet tall. Not enough to hold some Decepticons, but enough for the ones they've been seeing hovering around, such as the sentries. There were usually two in the cafeteria, today there were three. Dagger was among them, standing in the back, watching as the humans gathered their food.

In the past week, most people remained in the seat they chose the first day they were there. Only a few have switched around in cafeteria, sitting in new spots almost every day. Monty was among them, he just didn't seem to like to stay in one place.

Rosangela eyed 254, he ate quietly on the other side of the bench table. Far from her. Guess he didn't want to talk.

She took a small bite from her breakfast bar, staring down at the food as she chewed. It was far from what she usually ate for her first meal, normally being eggs, bacon and toast. A regular breakfast that any person would have. Nothing special, just like her.

As her thoughts traveled, her appetite began disappearing. _No,_ she forced herself to swallow and take another bite, _you'll just get hungry later. Eat as much as you can now._ It's happened once before, where she lost her will to eat. She worked too slow in the mines for the sentry's liking. He wasn't Crossframe this time, no. He was horrible, and had a whip.

He's only threatened her with it, forcing her to stand even though she didn't have much energy.

If she didn't eat now, and that same sentry was there, she'd be dead. Rosangela was not looking forward to having whip marks across her back like some others. Hopefully, Crossframe would be there. He was known to carry a couple tiny snacks for ones on break. He was a very rewarding Decepticon.

"Alright, listen up, you newbies!" Dagger shouted, having moved to the front of the cafeteria to grab everyone's attention with his sharp bark. His red eyes waited until all human eyes were on him, "A couple of you humans get what we call a _promotion_. Means you go to a new job. The energon transporters."

They'd seen how the transporters were treated, and some hoped that they'd get out of the mines, and others hoped they stayed.

"And _no_ , Monty. You are not among them," the Decepticon glared to the man who had his mouth open, about to speak. Dagger straightened, "Those of you who have numbers between 240 and 260 are promoted."

Rosangela repeated the numbers in her head. 253. She was among them. The last thing she wanted was to become an energon transporter.

Silence adorned their ears, some went back to eating and others stared at Dagger, hoping for clarification he so gracefully provided. He sneered, "I gave you a tour. Report to the energon room. I expect all you miners in one hour."

With that, he turned and left. There was about fifteen minutes left in their breakfast hour, so Rosangela began cleaning up and lounged at her table. They weren't allowed out until the hour was over, then they had about ten minutes to report to their stations, depending on what they were.

The girl glanced at 254, he looked a little disoriented. She assumed he didn't want to be an energon miner anymore than she did.

Energon room... that was just to the left of outside the mines, right?

It had been a week, she could barely remember which room was which. She never replayed it in her head when she first heard it to hammer it in. Well, time to start.

Rosangela was striding down the hall with others within twenty minutes, following the transporters to their station. They were greeted with two sentries, as usual. But they didn't look too nice. Was it too soon to say she was already missing Crossframe and Dagger?

"Alright all you new transports, there are three jobs within this level. There are the energon collectors, who collect the mined energon from the mines," he spoke as though they were children. In a way, they were ignorant. They had no clue what these little jobs entailed, but as he defined them, they seemed a little self explanatory. He gestured to the room they were currently in, "Converters are in here, you're loading the energon into these machines, they liquefy the energon. Then there are the _actual_ transporters, who carry the energon cubes down to the Cybertronian mess hall."

There were only fifteen new transporters, Rosangela noted. There were already roughly twenty to thirty. Some might already be working.

"Each day you rotate jobs," he circled them, most likely checking their numbers. Then he split the fifteen into three groups, and pointed to Rosangela's, "This group will start off as collectors today. Tomorrow you will be converters. This group are converters, and tomorrow will be transporters. You five are transporters, and will be collectors. I think you get the gist," he finished, dropping his gesturing servo down to his side.

The other Decepticon stepped forward, approaching Rosangela's group, "You five, with me," he walked over to small carts, or at least compared to him. He crouched, "These are your carts. You will load them with energon until they become too heavy for you to push, then you return here and hand them off to the converters. Energon isn't dangerous to humans, so it's fine to touch it all you want. Just... don't _consume_ it. I don't think you're _that_ incompetent. Got it?"

They all quietly nodded, glancing at the few other collectors who each took a cart and left the room. They slowly grabbed theirs. Rosangela curled her hands around one, it went up to her waist, if not a little higher with her short height. The metal was cold and beat, slightly grimy from human hands. Tiny blue particles and broken off pieces of energon lied inside, contrasting against the rusty dark brick red of the cart. It was on tiny wheels that moved like a shopping cart, a _working_ shopping cart, that is.

She pushed it forward with a grunt, it was entirely metal. What was she expecting it to be? An actual wire cart? It didn't look that light. It rolled quietly on the floor, surprising enough. She followed the others into the mines. There were about eight of them lining the large never-ending caves. They just creepily went on into darkness.

"Ah, familiar faces, familiar faces..." Crossframe muttered as though in a trance as he intently watched the new energon transporters, "Shame that you five had to go. You worked well here."

Monty waved at them as they silently picked up loose energon crystals, "Ay, kiddos. Fancy meetin' ya here again."

She worked well here? What was that supposed to mean? If anything, the woman felt like she was bad at handling the pickaxe. Of course, it took time to get through the soreness and tough it out, but... If she worked so well, why was she promoted? Monty's one of the best, but he isn't promoted.

Was because they had so few transporters? It seemed like they had enough already.

As Rosangela worked, going down to the end of the miners' line and back up where they came from, picking up energon and depositing them in the cart as she went, she thought back on the very first day she had been here.

It was scary at first, it's not every day that you're walking somewhere away from people and get scooped up by some giant metal hand from behind and flown in a jet to an unknown area where a giant base is hidden in the ground, the only entrance being a small green metal pad that sinks into the ground like a shaft, covered by the humongous oak and pine trees above. Then being stripped to nothing and placed in a room with a hundred other people just like you.

Of course, she had been scared. What would they do to her, was all that ran through her mind as she stood in the crowd, struggling to keep her expression neutral.

She was very close to being executed in that left door. But that Megatron had saved her that. Why? What did he see in her? What kind of potential was found? Why did he want to know her name, if he would refer to her as 253?

It was confusing. It was all confusing.

Rosangela was just some nobody who worked as a librarian. No family, no criminal records, no late bills, what had she done?

Perhaps that's what the Decepticons liked. Nobodies. Simply because they wouldn't be missed if they were gone. And obviously, Rosangela would not be missed. No one would even notice that the girl who never spoke, who never willingly partook in any activites, who stayed away from crowds, who went missing.

She was just a librarian who sorted the books and ensured they were in the correct place.

Easily expendable.

What was her worth?

Definitely something the Decepticons needed. She had none elsewhere. How would she be of little if Megatron had called her to be moved into the right door? Instead of being killed in the left?

Rosangela shuttered, picking up a large chunk that someone with the number 103 excavated from the wall. They had killed at least thirty people. Maybe some made it out, then there were the kids the Decepticon leader sent back to their homes.

Why hadn't he wanted children? Was he soft at heart, or whatever they had, or was he just not up for the cries and the whining? Honestly, Rosangela loved kids, and even wanted to work with them once as a teacher or at a daycare center. Maybe that'll get her some friends, if not some feeling of self worth.

"233, keep moving!" Dagger snapped down at the human who collapsed. She was short, maybe a little taller than Rosangela herself, and looked a little shaky on her feet. Her pickaxe dropped to the ground, and others tried their best not to pause in their work as Dagger stomped over, irritated with the girl whose body refused to move, "What's wrong with you?"

A small whine escaped her, but no answer. But the rest could see it in her eyes. She was tired. It might have been insomnia, that she wasn't getting enough if the dark circles and horrible bags were anything to go by. She looked mid twenties, with a small silver cross necklace the Decepticons allowed her to keep. Rosangela's own hand went up to her necklace, eyeing the poor woman who couldn't stand.

Trying not to pause in her work, the girl kept her necklace in her hand while picking up energon. It was a light gold pendant on a matching chain. The pendant itself was black, encased in gold framing. All across the little surface, were birds, flowers and vines also in gold. Before her grandmother immigrated to America, she bought it, passing it down to Rosangela before she died not too long ago.

Her grandmother was the only one who spoke to her as a friend. As family. She was the only one who made her feel genuine happiness and contentment in life. But she had passed on before Rosangela could pick herself up.

She dropped the necklace in favor of faster work, letting it rest just above her cleavage on her chest, the chain settling against her collarbone.

The cart was beginning to feel a little too heavy, full of energon. Rosangela couldn't fit much more inside it. She grabbed the last of the crystals in her path and began making her way out of the mines, besides, she didn't entirely want to see what happened to 233.

She's seen the other workers with the slash marks on their backs from whips. Dagger was stern, surely he wouldn't resort to violent measures? Crossframe had now approached, concerned. He found it amusing to interact with the humans and was quite curious with their culture.

Her back turned before anything else could be heard, pushing the cart into the energon room. Frowning, she kept her head down, eyes locked on her hands as the sentries' gazes turned to her. It was unnerving how they watched her move about with such scrutiny.

Trying her best not to give them the satisfaction of her attention, she mindfully pushed the cart to the converters and grabbed an empty one from the side. It was less grimy this time, having been used less.

Rosangela made her way back out and into the mines once again, hopefully 233's problem was solved and it'd be peacefully quiet for the remainder of the shift.

Her first go around didn't take very long, and her legs were already feeling sore. _Great,_ she sighed through her nose, eyes scanning the mine's ground for crystals, _now my legs are going to be sore._

233 wasn't present in the mines. Where she had been taken would remain a mystery until at least lunch or when her day would end. It was quiet, even Monty focused on what he was doing with such undivided attention. Usually, he'd be humming or whistling some goofy tune or having a one-sided conversation.

Only the sound of pickaxes beating on the walls, the smell of sweat, glowing blue energon with its hard, smooth surface greeted her senses. She herself was sweating, having to bend down repetitively to pick up even the smallest of energon crystals. Her mouth felt dry, slowly traveling down her throat in lack of water.

The sentries of her station never mentioned anything about breaks.

It was hot in the room. If she thought _collecting_ energon was bad enough, she was _not_ ready for converting. Steam rose from the converter as it worked.

All she had to do, was stand at the beginning and move the energon crystals onto the conveyor belt, where they went into the machine to be liquefied. She had to turn back and forth to pick up and place down the crystals, big and small.

And definitely no breaks.

Second shift yesterday, Crossframe had snuck her a break in the mines, allowing her five minutes only at the words of Dagger when he passed by.

But now, here she was, standing in the energon room with the two strict sentries who had whips hanging off their hips like a gun holster. Their red eyes watched her and the other seven humans as they worked, stuffing the conveyor belts with energon.

There was no fresh air, only a couple ventilation units high up the wall to pull out the hot air. They didn't work fast enough. Where did they even lead?

Rosangela sighed, blinking out the lightheadedness of the heat and working three hours straight. Sweat was definitely pouring down her skin like tears, but she couldn't stop to wipe it, even as it slipped from her brow into her eyes. It was the warning gaze of the two Decepticons to put her in her place with ease.

Half the workers here were cleaning the energon crystals of dirt, since the machine can't take in that, either that or it was that the Decepticons didn't like the "added flavor." The other four placed them on the moving belt.

It was hell, to say the least.

She really wished that she were back with the miners.

Rosangela could only imagine was transporting was like, since they had to travel into the Decepticons' mess hall and walk past all the higher up robots, with their burning eyes pasted on their backs. She shuttered, if there was anything she didn't like, it was attention. Especially when in a populated place. Those giant metal beings looked judgmental, despite not even being of the same species.

At least it'd be out of this hot room and not making her sore legs stiff from lack of exercise.

Now was when she hoped to be promoted. She did _not_ wish to have this station repetitively throughout her time here.


	6. 31

This day was energon transporter.

Rosangela grimaced at the soreness in her legs, they were far too stiff for her liking as well, as she stood from her bed.

Again, fresh clothes were laid out for her. This time, placed on her bed. They must've remembered which size she wore, some of the women were caretakers, getting up early to hand out the clothes.

A knot formed in her stomach. She wasn't ready to transport energon to the Decepticons. It was said that they were there most in the morning, and later in the day, in the last couple hours of their second shift.

It wasn't easy to eat breakfast, having to force herself to swallow the food and ignore the unsettling of the stomach.

254 had told her something about Megatron being there for morning energon. He was a transporter yesterday, and reassured Rosangela that it "wasn't that bad." Then went into how it's a short walk to where she's supposed to deliver the cubes. It did little to help.

Repeating it in her mind, she told herself don't look them in the eye. Don't make a sound. Don't stumble. Keep moving.

Follow every order with haste, as the sentries - different from the first two days - directed her group. There were carts with large cubes of energon nearby. "Two different sizes," he informed, "One can be pushed by a single human. Those larger ones are pushed by two. There's an uneven amount of you, so I'll have three take single carts."

His eyes landed on Rosangela and the two others standing near her.

"You three," he pointed to the energon cubes, "Load them up and go. Big carts hold six, smaller hold three."

Just like that, they set to work, passing sympathetic looks to the convertors as they walked by to the stacks of cubes. The job wasn't split, they'd have to load and transport themselves. The glowing blue cubes looked to be moderately heavy, but looks can be deceiving, Rosangela realized as she hefted one up. It had to of been more or less a quarter of her weight. It put her newly formed muscles to the test. The week spent mining helped her strength, the cube wasn't drastically too much weight. Three cubes was most of her, but she'd manage to simply push the cart. It was getting over her social anxiety that concerned her more, these were _giant alien robots_ for crying out loud! What was she to do?

Would she see Megatron again? Was he still intrigued by her? Why was _she_ so interested in _him?_ Was it because he actually noticed her, saw something he liked in this little woman?

Her mind raced, trying to find the answers she couldn't get yet. It gave her a headache.

No cart has left yet, Rosangela saw, none wanted to be the first and took their time loading the flat bed carts.

"253, move," a sentry rumbled, jolting her out of her musing. She gripped the handle tightly, her knuckles turning white as she willed her legs to start walking out of the energon room.

The girl didn't know what was better, having to push a cart with another, or go alone. And first.

No one was behind her as she exited. Where was she going?

"This way," a Decepticon standing at the corner of the hall pointed behind him, "Only transporters are allowed into this section. The refueling room is second on the left. Don't get stepped on."

It looked like he wanted to smile, but kept his visage stone cold for the human gave him no reaction. She looked apathetic. _Don't look them in the eye._

He shook his metal head, watching her push the cart to the mess hall. It was confusing to him, why hadn't she cowered in fear?

All the others had. He looked at her number, taking a quick peek into her file.

Her name was definitely familiar, wasn't this the human his leader spared? It certainly didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the Decepticons.

Rosangela took her time down the overly large hall. It was quiet and empty, besides one of the giant robots that walked into the mess hall. It didn't sound loud in there, but there was the buzz of voices.

Glancing behind her, she saw only one other had left the energon room and rounded the corner, pushing their cart of three cubes like her.

A couple red eyes went to Rosangela as she willed herself to enter the mess hall. Others continued to drink their energon without a care for the entering human. It wasn't overly full, she learned with one quick glance. _Don't make a sound._

Another guard stood where there were stacks of cubes in a small space back in the corner. She pushed her cart over to the pile, then began unloading the flat bed, hearing mutters rising in the large room as her back was bare for all to see her number branded into her mocha skin. _Don't stumble._

"Yes, that is her," a deep rumbling voice drawled, speaking slowly and patiently enough to send shivers up her spine. She knew exactly who that was, making her freeze as she set down an energon cube.

Only at the sound of the sentry turning his head snapped her back into motion. _Keep moving._

She stiffly swiveled around, trying her best to keep her eyes glued to the floor.

"253, return to the energon room," she felt the tip of his staff nudge her forward just enough to pass the message. It was gentle.

Her eyes glanced up and connected with the triumphant gaze of Megatron, he looked almost _proud_ to see her as he was leaned back, legs spead under the large table he sat at across the mess hall, "I made no mistake in my decision."

There was hunger in his eyes, a smile curled his parted mouth.

A harsher push and she was walking. _Follow every order with haste._

She wanted what was best for herself. And maybe, just maybe, she'll live. She has so far, even caught the eye of one Decepticon. Megatron.

Well, and all the others. If Megatron is interested in her, then all will be.

Rosangela assumed it was a good thing, to be in possible favor of the leader.

As she returned to the energon room, the woman saw the rest of the transporters make their way down to the refueling room. They looked nervous.

The girl didn't blame them. Their slave masters were in that room. Did they have as much luck as she did with finding a Decepticon to catch the attention of?

It was more on accident for her, she hadn't meant - didn't _want_ \- one of these giant robots to notice her. Just wanted to blend in, but Megatron picked her out of the crowd.

Which brings her back to the questions that have been hanging in her mind for the past couple weeks, ever since that day she arrived here.

No one noticed her, why now?

What was so special about her among a crowd of a hundred? Surely there were far more interesting - and visually appealing - people.

She didn't have much confidence in herself, including her appearance.

Rosangela was short and slighty chubby, her stomach and sides rolling into themselves. Her thighs were far too thick for her liking and her hips wide. Her hair was wild and she hated the features covering her face. She had a round face and nose, plump lips. Her big brown eyes were her least favorite, reminded her too much of her old family.

Did the Decepticons even have the same visual attractions as they do? Did they see any of them remotely nice-looking or were they all just disgusting insects to them?

It wasn't something Rosangela could find the immediate answer to. But she knew one thing for sure:

She wasn't attractive.

In no way, no how, was she pretty or sexy, just... plain and quite possibly ugly; a disgrace to human eyes.

But what about Megatron's eyes, or whatever they call them? Did he see her as some sort of beauty, or was he trying to mock her? Didn't matter if he had a smirk or a snarl on his face, his sharp teeth were always bared and was difficult to decipher what emotion he was conveying.

His interest in her was seen as nothing but positive to her, she didn't care if he wanted to embarrass her. He saw her. Said her name. Remembered her. That was good enough.

Rosangela, as silently as she could, slipped back into the energon room, ignoring the watchful eyes of a sentry, the other dutifully supervising the convertors.

More cubes were stacked in the corner, waiting for her to transport some.

For the umpteenth time since she's been here, Rosangela realized she no longer had her old life, for better or for worse, she didn't know. She worked for the Decepticons now, she needn't worry about paying her bills and having to go out for food.

Sure, there are people she'd be living with from now on, having to see them everyday, but that didn't mean she had to socialize with them, at least she wasn't alone. Perhaps she had a couple acquaintances to rely upon if the time comes.

It was confusing how this place worked.

To be completely honest with herself, Rosangela was expecting a living hell, to have wish she had gone through the left door. But she had no such thoughts, she was moderately content here. Decent living conditions - that were free - as well as sufficient food and water - also free - some of the robots here were considerate, others not so much, but they understand how fragile humans could be.

Was this the work of Megatron? That they were treated as workers, less so slaves?

Was he planning on capturing more of her people, and how many more? Were they working towards world domination, slowly working to build up their energy stores for an invasion?

If that was the case, what was holding them back? As far as she could see, they were just mining their fuel, that they consume like any other human.

Was there someone stopping their supposed plans, or were humans not as weak as they thought with a strong, resilient military? Could they hold back the Decepticons?

We're they able to defeat them?

Or was there another force preventing them from making any drastic moves beyond kidnapping nobodies?

More of their race? On this planet, working with the government or hiding in the shadows.

Would she, and the other humans her, be held accountable for helping the Decepticons? Was this considered helping?

It was forced work, probably to any outsiders. But to many here, it was heaven. An escape from the real world or to have some sort of purpose.

Rosangela didn't know if these were her own thoughts or just being able to know. She's read almost every book in the library she used to work at, including books on human behavior.

Three cubes were stacked on the flat bed and the girl was on her way back out. The other transporters were returning, empty carts much easier to push.

Megatron was still there. Rosangela didn't know what to expect, his cube was barely touched. So he liked drinking slow, or was that just her?

Literally, his red eyes never left her backside, not even when other transporters left or entered the mess hall. He just watched her.

She dared to look up at him, sitting there more leaned forward than her previous trip and his eyes were intently on her torso, the red pupils flicking up to her own brown irises when he noticed she was looking at him.

His mouth opened further, his face shifting to that of a wicked smile, all the small pieces of metal moved and clicked, albeit very subtly. But she saw all of it.

"253," the sentry spoke firmly, making her flinch.

Megatron leaned back, holding out a clawed hand, "Now hold on there," he looked back to her from across the room, which fell silent upon his words, "Come here, girl."

Rosangela took a couple small steps forward, all eyes from every Decepticon in the room was on her. Her little heart was beating fast, but she tried keeping her breathing calm and to not cower. Her anxiety spiked.

"Closer."

A few more steps and she was rounding the large table he sat at, and he continued to beckon her closer.

When she stood just mere feet away from his metal feet, he bent forward and examined her, "You are quite an interesting little insect."

He spoke no more, seemingly lost in a trance staring at her.

"Interesting indeed," he seemed to observe her form as she shifted her weight from one foot to another before he leaned back in his seat, dismissing her, "Carry on."

When Rosangela returned her next trip, he was gone, his seat left empty.

* * *

It was a very large question as to why Monty was never promoted, though he liked his job as a miner and the Decepticons let him stay. Was he really that efficient?

Rosangela wondered, as she pushed the cart through the mine and picked up energon, why she wasn't kept in the mines. It seemed to be random when her number group was chosen, they simply needed more humans in the energon room.

She sorely wished she was never promoted, or that she could remain as an energon collector. At least she'd get her daily dose of humor from Monty, even if she hadn't shown her amusement outwardly.

Crossframe and Dagger were there today, the former even offered a hint of a smile to the small group of collectors. He was such a friendly Decepticon, it was a wonder as to why he was even a part of a seemingly evil and brutal part of his species.

Rosangela went to pick up an energon crystal, underestimating how sharp it was and her palm slipped on the edge of it.

It felt smooth as it dug into her skin effortlessly. Only when she pulled back her hand and felt the sting did she realize it cut her. Rosangela examined her hand, watching as the blood quickly oozed out of the deep wound, she hissed.

It hurt.

The hairs on her nape rose as she realized she was hurt. She didn't want to get in trouble and cause a fuss.

"Aw, gee," Monty stepped over a few rocks, taking her hand in his, "Pretty sharp crystal. Ay, Cross."

Said robot turned his helm to the man, who held up Rosangela's bleeding hand, the red liquid running down her arm and dripping off her elbow. He frowned, gears clicking as he shifted his weight. Dagger's attention was gained and he pointed to the mine's exit, "Take her to the med bay."

"It's what they call their hospital of sorts," Monty muttered into her ear, leading her out. He was a very friendly man, seen as rude for his lack of mannerisms, but inside, he was a real gentleman. Knew how to treat a girl. He said it before, his parents taught him well.

Dagger had snorted at that, countering with a question as to why he isn't married yet.

The banter this odd man has with those two sentries was beyond amusing and eased the tension. Both Crossframe and Dagger realized this and didn't mind socializing, as long as the humans worked.

If they were comfortable, they would work better.

Laura was the first to greet them when they entered the "med bay," her back turned with her number - 64 - visible. She turned around and smiled, seeing Monty and Rosangela's bloody hand, "Surprised it isn't you who's injured this time, Monty."

"Aw, nah. Just delivering this young lady to you. Cut her hand on an energon crystal," he pushed Rosangela forward.

"Let me see it," she obeyed, placing her bloody hand in the palm of Laura, the woman examining the wound before leading her over to a sink, "This might sting."

The faucet turned on, moderate pressure before Rosangela's hand was dunked under the warm water. It didn't hurt at first, then all the blood washed away and water went directly into the wound. She sucked in a sharp breath, resisting the urge to pull her hand back.

It was a deep slash across her entire palm.

Laura carefully wrapped her hand in a bandage, making sure it was tight enough. Rosangela tried flexing her hand in and out of a fist, the movement restricted by the bandage and sting of the open cut.

"Your number is 253, right?" tapping at a tablet's screen, Laura asked. She glanced to see the girl nod, "I have to record your injury."

Rosangela stifled the urge to grimace, she didn't want to be in a system.

64 grinned, "You're the talk among us."

"The talk...?"

"Yeah!" the older woman shot her a reassuring smile, "You went from being the quietest girl, to probably the most known. I heard about you."

Rosangela shifted on her feet in discomfort, keeping her voice small, "Everyone talks about me?"

Laura caught on, her smile turning sympathetic, "Of course! You spoke with," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Megatron."

64 continued typing away on the tablet, occasionally glancing to the girl as she spoke.

"Word travels fast, especially in here. We get tons of people and their gossip. I remember when your group first came, I heard you spoke with Megatron, he asked for your name or something?"

"Yeah," Rosangela muttered, sitting down on one of the beds.

Laura finished her work with the tablet, "Crazy. And we had all worked hard to gain his attention, which we _still_ haven't."

The girl sent 64 a questioning look at her chuckle, "His attention?"

"Yes," the woman stepped towards her, "Being in his favor means you have a greater chance of living. The fact that he _spoke_ with you? I think he likes you."

"L-likes me?" Rosangela sputtered, then shaking her head, "No, no, no. He can't possibly... like..."

"You," she patted the girl's back, then urged her off the bed and to the door, "If the cut opens or it hurts a lot, you can return. But I have to send you back to work."

Rosangela nodded, walking out the door and back to the energon mines, her cart was moved off to the side and out of the way.

Sighing, she picked up a crystal and placed it in the half full cart.


	7. 30

It wasn't until Rosangela learned of her "popularity" that she noticed the eyes on her, the whispers and mutters into another's ear, the avoidance.

Every room she went into, it seemed to get quieter. Was it always like this? Has she really been that oblivious?

It made her ten times more uncomfortable. She didnt want to be the center of attention.

But isn't that what she wanted? To be noticed? Or did she really want to remain in the turtle shell that only slows her down?

It continued like this for a few days. Rosangela hadn't really spoken to anyone since - not that she did in the first place - nor had she seen the Decepticon leader. She's heard the gossip, the robot liked her.

It was morning, the girl hadn't so much as cracked her eyes open. She remained half asleep and listened to the whispers and light feet of the caretakers.

Hearing no other sounds from the rest of the women, Rosangela assumed she didn't have to get up for another hour, at the least.

Caretakers are usually up about an hour or two before the rest. They had a half hour to an hour - depending on how early they got up - to tend to themselves, then the next half hour to prepare clothes and food. While the humans worked, they either caught a little more sleep or cleaned the living quarters, medical bay and cafeteria. It was a very nice job, Rosangela noted, it reminded her of the library. The caretakers consisted mainly of older folks, women and the second group.

Though it is a good job to have, it rarely lasts long. It was like being on the waiting list of a hospital, or drafted in a war. A lottery.

Being a caretaker was solely for waiting to become a test subject.

It made Rosangela nervous, especially since it was said that no one has made it through. None from the first group were still alive, and half from two were gone.

The girl was selfishly hoping that because Megatron liked her, she'd get it easier.

She assumed that by having a limited amount of workers with an expectancy to survive for less than two years keeps a rebellion at an all time low. Chances they would rise up was next to none.

What human would give up shelter?

But if they were to die soon anyway, what was the point? Helping a possibly evil alien race stay fed?

Rosangela turned over, ignoring the one ceiling light that wasn't covered by the edge of the top bunk of her bed. What did the tests even consist of? What were they trying to achieve?

Would she make it to that level? Or was she forever an energon transporter? Did she want to be one? No... no, she didn't.

She's seen the other sentries that she blessedly never had to work under, or anger. They held whips that looked like they were made of metal. She wouldn't doubt it, seeing as they were metal themselves.

Though only a couple she's seen marks on, hashed over their numbers but never to the point where they were illegible. There would only be a couple whip marks on them, however.

It was enough to put everyone in their place and keep them there.

Thinking about being on the receiving end of the lashes sent Rosangela into a feeling of anxiety. She was afraid of disobeying and being punished for it.

Sighing, she opened her eyes, watching the ladies mill about while fingering her pendant for comfort. It brought a sense of safety for her, since it was formerly her grandmother's - probably the family member she was closest to out of them all.

It was as though she blinked before one of the caretakers was clapping her hands, "Alright ladies, time to get up! Decepticons want us in the cafeteria pronto."

The girl lied there for a moment, wearily watching as the other women got ready. Before she could fall asleep again, she pulled herself from her bed, shuffling over to where her clothes sat at the foot of her bed. She slipped into her bottoms and tugged on her top. She felt rushed putting on her boots and tying the laces.

Rosangela ingored the stares she received when she joined the crowd. So much for blending in. She felt like the odd one out, and definitely did not like it. Did they always stare at her? Whisper to each other?

She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth with her canines, biting it. She wrapped her hand around the elbow of her other arm, glancing around anxiously.

The walk to the cafeteria was a long one. With each heavy step, the knot in Rosangela's stomach twisted more and more. Her mouth ran dry as soon as she entered the mess hall. At the turn of heads when she entered, the girl scrunched her shoulders. She felt extremely self conscious at the moment.

They stared.

She could feel the burn of each stare, each punch to the gut and rock to the head with each spoken whisper talking about her.

Dagger and Crossframe offered a distraction by just standing there being giant robots. They didn't look too pleased if the grim expression upon their faces was anything to go by.

Rosangela sat alone. Well, there weren't enough seats for her so she settled against the wall like a few others had. Once everyone settled, a triangular mech strode in, his round helm moving as he glanced around the room that froze as soon as he began walking in.

Starscream.

The air commander and second in command of the Decepticons. He stood up front, his optics looking around before barking in a raspy voice, "Alright, you pitiful humans, listen up. We have more Decepticons landing soon. We must work double time to prepare for their arrival."

Rosangela sighed, leaning the back of her head against the wall.

Starscream's optics zeroed in on her, immediately narrowing his red orbs into paper thin slits. It took her a moment to realize that she had been considerably audible in such a quiet room.

"You will do best as told," he continued, beginning to slowly pace. If his optics could narrow any more, they did. They kept landing on her as he spoke, "If you do not, we will rule out a punishment. Publicly. Your current supervisors will be replaced with the new arrivals. Do not expect the same courtesies."

Rosangela shrunk against the wall at the one last lingering glance Starscream sent her before he turned out of the room. He must have known about the liking Megatron took to her. He is the one who snatched her from her life and deposited her in that room with his leader those some weeks ago.

What did he even have against her? Besides being human, why did he hate her so much because Megatron didn't? Is he... jealous?

Rosangela's cheeks heated up at the thought of giant alien robots having... sexual intercourse. They didn't do that, did they?

Did Starscream have an interest in Megatron? Or were they former lovers? The girl had nothing against homosexuality and the like, it's just that they were an - assumingly - inorganic, asexual alien species.

Or is it that Starscream had an interest in _her?_

She couldn't the face she made, she'd much rather be with Megatron than him!

Wait.

What?

Well... she guessed it was true. As smart as Starscream appears to be, he seemed to be one to abuse his power when he could get it. No doubt would he do so with a female. If he could even get one.

Rosangela frowned at the abundance of people in the cafeteria. Usually caretakers and medics ate and left before the workers, keeps it less crowded.

She hung around the wall, inching away from the people who continued to give her looks.

"253!" A feminine voice called out from somewhere in the crowd. The girl scanned the mass of people, but couldn'r find the source. She called out again, "253!"

A hand waved from the crowd and her gaze locked onto a blonde head of hair. It was Laura.

She gestured Rosangela over. She tried to ignore the way the room quieted ever so slightly when she made the walk to 64, cutting through the middle. It was the quickest way, yet not the subtlest, unfortunately.

The older woman offered a smile, ignoring the others watching them. She led Rosangela over to the line to get their breakfast, allowing the girl in front of her.

Both women grabbed their food, Laura silently instructing her to pay no mind to everyone else. Once they found a seat, Rosangela tried to disappear, hunching over the table and keeping her head down. She ate her food quietly, wanting nothing more than to get out of the cafeteria as soon as possible. She finished within a few minutes.

As far as she knew, a couple Decepticons have already arrived, but no actions to replace the sentries has been made yet. Has this ever happened before the fourth group came? Where the supervisors were replaced because of a wave of new ones?

Rosangela slipped out of the cafeteria, avoiding any and all eye contact with everyone as she made her way down to the energon room.

The girl sighed, relieved to be away from the people of the mess hall.

She didn't know if it is considered good or not that she isn't an energon converter today. She was a collector, which meant she'd have to be around people again but at least it wasn't hot.

Glancing down at her hand as she pushed the cart, Rosangela squeezed the rim, feeling the slight pain of her cut. It hadn't healed just yet and she'd need her bandages changed by the end of the day. Why hadn't she gotten stitches? Did they not have the material, or would she be getting some today?

The cut was definitely still open, the girl had watched over the time she'd been out of the med bay the blood soaking through. Hopefully, it won't get infected.

Maybe they were getting materials at this moment? Laura hadn't said anything about stitches, however.

The miners were very quiet today. It didn't seem to be because of her presence - oh, how she wished it never will be - but because of the change of sentries. They wouldn't be seeing Dagger or Cross - the kindest Decepticons known - anymore.

Even Monty was quiet as he worked, a disturbed face with sad eyes present. His mining was more lax as he brought the pickaxe up and down.

He didn't crack any jokes. Not even a smile that crinkled his middle-aged eyes.

Rosangela couldn't help but observe the hyper focused miners as she picked up loose crystals, mindful of her hand. They all looked upset to some degree.

The two sentries watching them did too. Where would they go after this?

Unfortunately, for the next three trips the girl made, nobody relieved the mines of the tension hanging around. Not one said a word, or took a break. There was a lot more energon today, everyone working double time as Starscream had ordered.

Rosangela sighed, picking up yet another crystal with her uninjured hand.

* * *

As the next couple of days went by, the sentries were beginning to be replaced.

Dagger and Cross were the first to go, never daring to request to remain. They knew the humans worked better when they felt less threatened, but what would the one who runs this care about that?

The new Decepticons were meaner, and threatened any human that slowed down even a little bit. In the past few days, many more workers received a lashing. And true to Starscream's word, they were public.

Some were forced to strip bare in front of everyone and the Decepticons would punish them. They had something called "holoforms" that they would use to whip the workers. Rosangela refused to call them and herself slaves.

The sentries - as much as they hated it - used the holoforms because a few humans have died from lashes in their full robot mode.

Rosangela grimaced, shutting her eyes and thickly swallowing, 254 was among the ones who were accidentally killed. His skin wasn't even smooth or visible under the slashes and blood.

She shuddered, remembering the many visits to a toilet most of them made. That was yesterday. Some were found still hacking in the bathroom. The girl couldn't be one of them, as much as her body wanted to purge its stomach. But she couldn't lag behind, she had to keep moving. She was afraid of being punished, even if it is for her body's demands.

Her and 254 weren't close, they barely ever spoke to one another. But that didn't mean she isn't upset over it. He didn't deserve it.

What had he done to anger the new sentries? While transporting the energon cubes, his cart fell over and the blue liquid spilled. All three large cubes. It caused a bit of a holdup.

The blood of 254 quickly mixing with energon caused bile to rise in her throat every tme she thought about it. His screams, growing more and more choked with each lash, haunted her.

They had to scrape his remains from the floor.

Swallowing once more, she picked up one last crystal before heading out of the mines and back to the energon room.

Except she didn't get far.

Despite her rule of keep moving, she stopped. Frozen as she watched the very large Decepticons walk her way. They hadn't seen her yet. She didn't want them to. But she couldn't move, they would notice her. But she also couldn't stay still, they'd notice her.

It was too late anyhow, the multiple red pairs of optics locked onto hers.

She immediately ducked her head and moved along, not wanting to get in trouble for looking at them or stopping her work.

"253," a deep voice stopped her. It sent shivers up her spine.

The other workers in the area tried not to stop to see what is going on.

Rosangela stopped and turned, keeping her eyes down.

She could hear the smile in his voice, whether it is mocking or interested. He spoke calmly and slowly, in the most menacing of ways, "Are you going to look at me, femme?"

The girl slowly picked up her head, hesitantly making eye contact with the metal titan that looked back at her. She frowned, what was he getting at? He spoke to the other Decepticons - ones much smaller than him - that were new here.

"This is one of the humans. They are small and fragile, and we have a limited amount. Don't disable too many," her breath was caught in her throat. He looked back down at her. _Right_ , she took a nervous, deep breath, _they can smell fear._

"But I do not want to see this one being touched. In fact," he turned to the robot off to his left, "Soundwave, see to it that 253 is moved up."

Moved up? Rosangela's eyes widened, is she becoming a caretaker? Is she going to be experimented on?

"Yes, my lord," Soundwave said monotonely, nodding. He looked down to her, "253: return to duties. Caretaker: tomorrow."

She nodded and scurried along, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her stomach is violently twisting itself into knots to the point where she wants to throw up.

A caretaker.

She was going to be a caretaker tomorrow. How long until she became a test subject? Would she survive?

After emptying her cart, she walked back out of the energon room and fought the urge to stop again, much like other workers had.

There, in the midde of the hall, was a young woman. Her chest was bare, breasts hanging helplessly as her arms were held out on either side of her.

A holoform was behind her, arm pulled back and holding a whip. It was brought down with a violent _crack_ and she cried.

The Decepticons from before were observing, with disgusted interest and cruelty. Megatron was standing there, a disappointed look on his face that the human hadn't done as she was told.

Rosangela didn't know what she had done, but by the tenth lash, she had to say it was because of working too slow or speaking without permission.

Speaking usually resulted in twenty lashes. It was brutal and forced everyone to shut up for the most part.

The girl gripped the cart, ignoring the pain in her hand, she had to tread carefully. Even if Megatron is protecting her.

Why would he? It was confusing indeed. She didn't understand what is so special about her. But he saw something, enough to order the other Decepticons to leave her alone. To not punish her.

As if there'd be a reason, she isn't that stupid. She'd rather be obedient than rebellious.

It was for survival.

She grimaced at the harsh sound of the whip. And to keep her back in good shape. As if it isn't messed up already with her brand number.

Rosangela fought the urge to glance behind her, knowing the Decepticon leader is watching her.

Why did he save her from the left door? Would it even be considered saving? Was he being generous?

Why was she sent to the left door in the first place? Was it because she's fat?

Her cheeks heated up, self consciousness taking over her as she entered the energon mines. It had to of been her weight, why else would she have been sent there?

Maybe that was why Megatron likes her.

She hates her weight, it is... ugly to her. Any other human would look fine, she always wondered how they felt good about themselves, or if they even did.

The girl hates the rolls in her stomach, the thickness of her thighs, the stretch marks along her thighs and bottom. She had very faint ones on her breasts and stomach. Though her hips were wider than her chest.

What physical part of her is there to love? Is it because she was female, and submissive? Is that why Megatron likes her?

It is still a wonder how they reproduce, especially since she hasn't seen any of their children. Why would she? She isn't special, nor are the other workers.

There is just no reason to have the humans know, to get involved with their personal lives when they were just here to work. To mine energon.

The dimly lit mines were filled with workers, the air filled with sweat and dust. It's dry in here most of the time, unlike the raging heat and humidity in the energon room.

This trip, Rosangela was distracted.

She continuously up at the dark area of the cave, where it went deeper.

The girl dared a glance behind herself, everyone was minding their own business. Rosangela picked up one more stray crystal, depositing it into her cart.

Her heart started pounding as soon as her hand - formerly gripping the rim - let go of the cart. She took a step away from the cart. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, _they can smell fear._ There is a loose crystal settled against the dark wall, _I'll just pretend to pick this up._

As soon as her hand reached the enrrgon crystal, she slipped into the shadows of the wall. It is incredibly rocky and provided her placed to hide behind where they jutted out, casting shadows.

Why is she doing this?

That stopped her before she could move. Well, she is curious and has a gut feeling. Of what, she doesn't know.

Does the cave go on to a place deeper or higher to the outside world, or does it eventually end? Did they drill this out?

As she went on, the air became thinner. Her stomach dropped lower and lower as she snuck into the darkening cave. Why hasn't her unoccupied cart been noticed yet? Did they just not care or have they really not seen her?

What is she doing? Megatron's protection or not, she'd still be punished.

But she couln't help but walk on, her boots crunching the pebbles underneath.

It was almost pitch black when she stumbled upon a little alcove that is impossibly dark. But her eyes are adjusted enough to see a figure huddled there inside. It didn't move, even as she neared it.

Rosangela stopped in front of it, barely even able to tell that it was a huddled person. Their knees were brought up to their chest, tucking them further into the corner.

She didn't say anything, simply watched as the person breathed. This person isn't asleep, she knows that much.

Are they hiding? Well, of course they are, but how did they escape? How were they not noticed?

"253," a deep voice called out, back where the mines were busier. Rosangela froze. It was a sentry. After a minute's wait, he called out again, "253, return to your duties."

The sounds of pickaxes hitting solid rock and crystals slowed to a stop as the girl failed to move. The sentry must have known this entire time.

"253." He firmly stated again. She could hear him take a few steps, coming towards her. The heart in her chest beat faster, and that's where she really became afraid. What if she'd get lashes?

She stepped away from the hiding figure, beginning to return to her cart.

The sentry had already reached her when she moved from the alcove. These robots have sharp sight and can see in the dark, and he immediately spotted the figure.

"You there," he growled, "Get out here now. You neglect your duties."

They didn't move at first, waiting a moment before shifting. They stood quickly and smoothly.

"Get over here," the sentry snapped.

The person obeyed, knowing what is to come. They were led out, Rosangela having to follow. Monty shook his head as they passed him.

Transforming, the sentry activated his holoform. He stomped to the person, who was now on his knees, back turned to the holoform holding the weapon.

The whip unraveled, falling limply to the ground.

Rosangela backed up into the crowd, frowning. Megatron was still here, looking pleased that he had a perfect example of punishment for the workers.

She spotted the number upon their back.

It was 254.


End file.
